SuperPotterWhoMerLock and the Philosopher's Stone
by Don'tEvenBlink
Summary: My attempt to unite some of the biggest fandoms. In which the characters of Supernatural, Doctor Who (a kid version of the Tenth Doctor), Merlin, and Sherlock head to Hogwarts. This, by the way, does not resemble the story in the least, but please R&R, unless you absolutely hate what I've done...heheh. Slightly based off of, 'Of Timelords, Detectives, and Philosopher's Stones'.
1. Chapter 1

**So, after realizing that I had a story already started in a notebook, I decided to put this…thing onto the wonderful World Wide Web. Yeah, let me introduce the first ever story that has included nearly all of my fandoms: Merlin, Supernatural, Harry Potter, Doctor Who, and Sherlock. This started off of another story that I have currently forgotten the name of, but if it sounds vaguely familiar it's because I might have stolen one or two things from the author. Also, all of the characters will be introduced gradually throughout each chapter, so patience is required. Now, without further ado, possibly the worst story I've ever written!**

John Smith was a very unusual boy, to say in the least.

A tall, skinny boy, he was very quiet and withdrawn. No one at the orphanage wanted to be his friend, for how odd he was. In fact, no one ever paid attention to him, aside from the occasional taunt or insult.

So it was very surprising when, one day at breakfast, the boy who fetched the mail every day dropped an envelope at John's place at the table. John looked up from his book in confusion.

"For me?" he asked, a bit of disbelief apparent in his tone. "It has your name on it, dimwit," one of the less-than-pleasant boys, named Toby, pointed out. John ignored this jibe and instead focused his attention on the letter.

The envelope was made of heavy parchment. Written in dark green ink near the center of the envelope was the mailing address: _John Smith, the smallest cot in the Bedroom Upstairs, Stonewall Orphanage, London, England._

John almost dropped the letter into his bowl of oatmeal in shock. How could the person who sent this letter know where he _slept_? This was most likely a practical joke by one of the meaner boys—probably Toby. John looked at the return address. It read, 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry' in loopy cursive writing, the same writing the mailing address had. John frowned. Toby and his gang weren't creative enough to come up with a prank such as this, nor did they have the patience. Also, all of them had horrid handwriting. But if it wasn't a practical joke done by them, then who did it?

All of a sudden, a thought wormed its way into his mind. _Maybe it's real, _it whispered. That made John pause for a split second, but he quickly shot the idea down. John was a highly scientific person, and to consider such an idea was treason to his own brain.

John turned the envelope over in his hand, and stared at the old-fashioned seal over the opening. It depicted a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake on a shield—a sort of coat of arms, he figured. Who would be so thorough with a prank?

He stood up and left the table abruptly, not even clearing away his almost untouched oatmeal. John had decided to open it in the library, so if there was some sort of letter bomb inside he wouldn't be teased. (He had already checked for the signs of a letter bomb, but you could never be too careful.)

Easing into one of the armchairs that sat in the library, he looked critically at the piece of mail. Should he open it? _Would he_? John suddenly felt the urge to pace, but quickly squashed it. Then, taking a deep breath, he ripped open the envelope.

Out fell two pieces of parchment. One was a funny list, the sort you might expect in a Halloween party, and the other was a letter addressed to him. Thankful that he hadn't been squirted with odorous blue ink, he set the list on the wooden coffee table that sat before him, and grabbed the letter. It read:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Smith,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

John stared dumbly at the letter. Picking up the list gingerly, he stared at the amount of stuff he was supposed to get. _Where am I supposed to get a _wand? He thought. Then he laughed at himself. _Believing it now, are you? It can't be real. _Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that it _was _real. _It might have to do with my past, _he mused.

All of a sudden, his mind, which was racing with thoughts, screeched to a halt. John always stayed away from the topic of his amnesia, even in his own mind.

You see, John hadn't been at the orphanage his whole life. In fact, he'd only been there one year. The problem was he couldn't remember the other ten. He'd woken up in a hospital bed, and they'd told him they'd found him under a pile of smoking rubble. Oddly enough, he was the only one found, and no one seemed to know why the debris had been there. And since no one tried to claim him, he was sent to the orphanage.

John shook his head, snapping out of the trance. Then, without thinking, he reached for a pad of paper and a pencil, and began writing back to Hogwarts.

**So this was semi-based off of 'Of Timelords, Detectives, And Philosopher's Stones', but it'll gradually take its own shape as I go along. I am NOT trying to plagiarize, it was written for my own enjoyment and I just decided to put it online. Review, pleasey-weasey?**

**~Don'tEvenBlink**


	2. Chapter 2

~_2 months later~_

As John wheeled his cart into the King's Cross, he smiled at the thought of leaving the orphanage for nine months to go to a school of _magic. _He still wasn't over the novelty of it all.

He looked down at his ticket, however, and his smile vanished. Platform 9 3/4 –how was he supposed to find that? He knew there was no such thing as three-quarters of a platform. It was _impossible. _And yet the ticket was staring him in the face…

He pushed his cart between Platforms 9 and 10, looking hard at the two stations. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, aside from the strange barrier that stood between the platforms. _It looks like it's leaning toward Platform 10, _he thought, amused. Then, all of a sudden, it all clicked. "Stupid!" he yelled, slapping his forehead and startling sever passerby.

He should've seen it before though: _the barrier was the entrance to Platform 9 ¾. _He was stupid, old and stupid…but he wasn't old…where did that come from? He shook his head, not letting the thought bother him, and ran straight into the barrier, still a bit unsure whether it would work.

It was exactly what he'd theorized, luckily; instead of crashing into the brick wall, he felt a tugging sensation in his gut, and was suddenly sprinting through a crowd of witches and wizards. He slowed himself down, regaining control of the cart and maneuvering out of the stream of people.

John glanced at the clock, knowing from the ticket that the train was leaving precisely at eleven. Thankfully, it was 10 till; he had more than enough time to board the train and find a suitable compartment. As he passed people to get to the train, he picked up on a conversation between a teenager and a boy.

"Promise not to wreak havoc this year, Sherlock?" the teenager asked. He had a slightly beaky nose, intelligent eyes, styled brown hair, and was slightly overweight. He wore fancy 'muggle' clothing; pinstriped pants, loafers, a white dress shirt, and a pinstriped suit jacket. _He seems a bit full of himself, _John frowned.

"Promise to go on a diet this year, Mycroft?" The boy called Sherlock shot back. He was almost the polar opposite of the teen; he was very skinny and tall, with a snub nose, icy blue eyes, high cheekbones, and wild curly black hair. He wore a maroon button-up shirt and black skinny jeans. He was very snarky and seemed to think himself above everyone on the platform, which made John frown again.

Mycroft sighed. "Just…don't upset mummy," he finally said. Sherlock just grinned, playfully saluted to his brother, and darted onto the train. Mycroft just stared after him, before slowly shaking his head and leaving.

John shook his head, remembering his original mission, and quickly made his way onto the train, lugging his trunk behind him. He looked around for any empty compartments, but there were none open. The only one that wasn't full of people was the one with the boy—Sherlock—sitting in it.

John knocked on the door, and stuck his head inside. "Sorry to bother, but none of the other compartments have any room. Mind if I sit here?" Sherlock sighed unhappily, but luckily gestured for him to come inside. John smiled his thanks, and sat down adjacent from Sherlock.

Sherlock assessed the boy in front of him critically. There was something…strange about him. He was an orphan obviously, but hadn't been there long, two years at most; yet he didn't have any marks to indicate how his parents had died, even though he did seem sad. But his eyes—the boy's eyes were what got him. The boy was pretty average—lean and lanky, had messy brown hair that stuck up in the front and a healthy sprinkling of freckles. But those honey brown eyes were old man eyes. They had a haunted, depressed look to them, like he had seen worse things than anyone could imagine (which wasn't true; Sherlock could think of twelve dozen ways to die painfully off of the top of his head). They were…interesting, though, because they also showed hope—he obviously believed in bettering yourself. He was very intelligent too…

"Um…" the boy cleared his throat, snapping Sherlock out of his examination. "What?" he snapped. "You zoned out. I do that sometimes—annoying habit, really. You're just talking and talking, and all of a sudden you're wondering who invented the flute, which, by the way, was me, really I got tired of people blowing conch shells at me all the time…" all of a sudden he stopped dead. Sherlock had already heard though, and carefully cataloged it in his mind for later; most would brush it off as fanciful ideas from a boy, but this time it was different. "Ah, my name is John Smith, by the way," John added. "So, John Smith, what happened to your parents for you to end up in the orphanage?" Sherlock asked outright.

Sherlock could see the questions forming on John's lips, and prepared for the usual, 'How do you know that? No one can figure that out so quickly! Are you a stalker or something? Freak!'

Oddly enough however, John grinned widely and said, "Wow, how'd you do that? That was just brilliant!" Sherlock was slightly taken aback. Most people just accused Sherlock of stalking habits and reprimanded him (albeit a bit nervously, as if Sherlock was about to blurt out their glaringly-obvious affair in front of their spouse) but John seemed genuinely amazed and fascinated with Sherlock's simple deduction.

"Well, it's a bit obvious…" Sherlock started, launching into a detailed description of how he 'observed' everyone, and John felt a grin spread across his face. If nothing else, at least he'd made a new friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey people who are reading this. Sorry I didn't update in who knows how long. School started up and I have one word for you: math. Anyways, here is the next installation of this story. This is where Merlin is introduced, and it is a fairly short chapter. You have been warned.**

**Disclaimer: C'mon, people. Do you really think anyone on this site owns these books/TV shows?**

While Sherlock and John began a new, very odd friendship indeed, a boy sat not three compartments away, his nose in a book, effectively tuning out the strange girl who sat across from him.

His name was Mark Edwards, which was a very normal name for a very abnormal person. Mark, as the girl across from him pointed out, had 'an odd sort of aura about him'. He, like John, had a look in his cloudy blue eyes that whispered of untold sadness, but unlike John he did not try to hide this with a smile. Mark was also very tall and skinny, again like John in that aspect, but Mark had a long face that oddly enough was devoid of any baby fat.

His high cheekbones paired with those terribly sad eyes gave Mark a look of wisdom, and he possessed an old-person-like way he held himself. His coal hair swept over the twinkling eyes, but the whole nobility-like look was slightly ruined by his ears; they were almost comically big and stuck out like they had been pushed into place. The girl he shared the compartment with compared them to a mouse (something Mark found both amusing and a bit hurtful, but she'd obviously meant no harm by it).

The compartment girl suddenly gasped, cutting herself off from her lecture about odd, mystical creatures named 'Crumple-Horned Snorkacks'. "I forgot to introduce myself! How rude of me. I'm Luna Lovegood, and you are?" Mark looked up from his book, and, giving Luna a goofy grin, said, "I'm Mark Edwards. It's, ah, nice to finally know your name, I suppose."

Luna smiled, but it quickly morphed into a frown as she gazed at him. "Is something wrong? You seem sad…" "Oh, me? I'm fine. Just a little homesick, I suppose." Mark laughed, though it seemed a bit forced. Luna maintained her frown. Before she could comment, however, a rather plump boy entered their compartment, looking nervous. "Have you seen a toad by chance?" he asked, his face pinching up as if he were about to cry.

Luna smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later," she assured him. "Do you need any help searching?" Mark offered. The boy shook his head, blinking back tears now.

As soon as the boy left, Mark stuffed his face into his book and refused to acknowledge Luna again. It was obvious she suspected _something_, and despite the dreamy appearance she maintained, she was quite clever. Of course, there was close to no possibility she would guess the truth, but there was no way he was going to risk it.

The rest of the train ride passed without incident. Another girl with very bushy hair came by asking about the boy's toad and they provided her with the same answers they had for the boy. Then, very suddenly, Luna spoke up.

"We're nearing Hogwarts. We might want to change into our school robes," she advised. "After all, we wouldn't want to miss our first view of Hogwarts." She grinned at Mark knowingly. "Or, at least, _my _first glance. It's okay, Merlin, I won't tell anyone," and with that, she bounced out of the compartment, leaving a dumbstruck Merlin in her wake.


End file.
